


Metal-Zombie-Ocalypse

by MorinoAthame



Series: Random Prompt Fills [3]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Anal Sex, Chases, Crossdressing, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Murderface Sings, Musical References, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorinoAthame/pseuds/MorinoAthame
Summary: It's Halloween. Charles really doesn't care for Halloween, mostly because the band LOVES Halloween. It's very Metal. It also gives Charles nightmares.





	Metal-Zombie-Ocalypse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lioness78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lioness78/gifts).



> Another prompt for a friend. This time she wanted Metalocalyps, zombies, Halloween, Murderface liking show tunes, and a Scooby-Do chase scene. I'm not sure how well I did with that last one, but I tried. 
> 
> Near the end singing in _italics_ is Murderface,  underline is Skwisgaar, and **bold** is Toki. The couple lines that are **both** are Skwisgaar and Toki.

Halloween was not one of Charles’s favorite times of year, for good reason. The boys, they _loved_ it, far too much in the manager’s mind, and while it was good for business, stellar even, they always made a huge mess for Charles to have to clean up with death tolls he’d rather not think about, not to mention the process of refilling the Klokateer ranks (granted he didn’t have much of a personal hand in that, but he still had to finalize it all).

Fortunately, this year they didn’t seem to have anything in mind that would summon demons or trolls or gods know what else. No, they wanted a theme party. Charles could get behind something so simple. The boys had parties all the time, so he’d readily agreed. He spoiled them far too much, and he should have spent more time thinking before giving in. Just because it was simple, and the boys had thrown parties before with minimal fall out, didn’t mean this time was going to be the same. It was Halloween, and these were his boys.

But, being that he did spoil, Charles intended to make it the best party yet, and the theming would be perfect. He went so far as to hire the best makeup and effects people in the world. They would make everything as realistic as was possible.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have informed the band of this fact. He could have at least told Nathan. He’d had ample opportunity when they were alone, but their alone time was often limited and Charles didn’t like to think about business then. His sole focus was Nathan, often naked and begging, or cuddling and watching old black and white movies.

Charles could only pray they ever got alone time again, which was dependent on his surviving the night.

There was the matter of his own costume. Nathan had hinted, heavily, at a certain outfit he wanted Charles to wear, but the manager wasn’t sold on wearing it, at all… at least in public. In the end, he’d decided to go as an altered version of himself; which was the fool’s choice, it seemed. If he could just get a chance to remove some of his makeup… The boys needed to see he was him and not some undead flesheating ghoul.

Wiping at the blood on his cheek, Charles considered the position he found himself. The whole episode had started that morning. It had been a good morning.

He’d woke up, naked body pressed up against Nathan’s. The singer was still sleeping, and Charles, still loose from the night before, had found the lube and pushed some into himself before dribbling more on Nathan’s cock.

Charles had been careful not to wake the frontman, whose body was happy to respond to the slickness of the lube and the warmth of Charles’ hand. When he had Nathan as hard as he wanted him, Charles carefully straddled his lover and seated himself fully down on Nathan’s fat cock.

It never ceased to make his toes curl a little to feel himself spread open by Nathan. A few shallow movements got him nice and loose around Nathan, then he began to move with little care if he woke the younger man.

Nathan woke, bucking up and grunting loudly as he blinked his eyes but a moment before they focused on Charles and their gazes locked.

Charles held Nathan’s gaze for several thrusts, licking his lips suggestively while stroking his own erection with one hand while tugging on his sack with the other.

Several thrusts was all it took before Nathan rolled them over and fucked himself hard and deep into the manager. It was the sort of ride Charles would feel well into the next day, and he _loved_ it.

For a time afterward, he curled up against Nathan and dozed. Only later would he not love the fucking quite so much, when he found himself running later that afternoon.

Back to the point at hand, everything had started that morning, after Nathan had rolled over to go back to sleep and Charles got up to shower and make his way to his office. Around ten, he was informed the cosmeticians, costumers, and special effects people, some of which were quite famous for their abilities, had arrived. Even Tom Savini had been hired, and though he seemed a little under the weather, he was joking around and happy to be there.

Charles had wasted little time having some of the Gears put through ‘zombification.’ They would be the ones responsible for seeing to the things at the party and needed to blend in. Given that they were wearing hoods, you could still easily tell they were supposed to be zombies, if not by their arms then by a few strategic rips in their hoods which revealed some ‘decayed flesh’ underneath.

Once the staff was seen to, it was time for the guests, who had been informed to be early just for this reason, to likewise be put through the process. Charles himself sat down and went through it. While it wasn’t the costume Nathan had wanted, it was what Charles felt comfortable with. He would blend in with everyone else while the band stood out.

It was going on evening when the manager was properly made up. Leaving the cosmetic artists and clothiers to finish their work on the others, Charles went to double check on party preparations. This was when things began to go to hell, fast.

The boys were in their rec room, as usual, only they were behaving strangely… or rather a strange sort of strange, for them. They were huddled together between a couple arcade games looking frightened. They kept giving quick looks around, like they expected to be attacked.

Cautiously moving toward them, he cleared his throat, pausing when they all jumped. Toki screamed and dove behind Nathan while Pickles and Murderface both tried to hide behind Skwisgaar. Nathan made a pitiful pained noise before wailing out a reverberating “Nooooooooo!”

Charles really had no idea what was going on, but he felt he needed to comfort them, reassure them. When he moved forward, however, they boys scrambled to run away. “Boys…” He had little choice but to try to chase them down.

He never expected to end up running from them not ten minutes later, the boys giving chase with weapons in their hands. Toki was swinging a morning star around and Skwisgaar had a large double headed axe. Murderface had a crossbow, and Pickles had a rather large bong, of all things. (Given this was Pickles, it didn’t even give Charles a second of pause.) Nathan didn’t have anything in his hands but was wearing some spiky armored gauntlets on them.

The manager saw them take out two ‘zombie’ Klokateers before turning their attention to him. “Boys…” He tried again to reason with them, barely dodging a bolt from the crossbow. It grazed across his cheek before clattering against wall and floor. Two more were quick to follow, and Charles had no choice but to retreat for the time being, making sure to serpentine as he quickly put distance between himself and the band.

That was how he found himself, sometime later, catching his breath in the kitchen and hiding tucked between a counter and an open door to a walk-in pantry. His mind tried to think of what to do, while his ears were alert for the boys. He needed to get by them and to the guests. It wouldn’t do for the boys to murder their guests, at least some of them, who were well loved by millions of people (though nowhere near as loved as the boys so it wouldn’t be the end of the world, either, if he didn’t make it).

Charles only had a few moments longer to think before he heard movement. He tensed, ready to spring away when the door was pulled way. At the last second he realized it was Jean-Pierre looking down at him. He gave the chef a small smile and stood. “Ah. Are…” He cleared his throat. “Are preparations on schedule?”

The chef watched him another second then gave a jerky nod before continuing into the pantry.

The manager watched him a moment, hoping the boys remembered they were why the chef looked as he did. If they were just going after anything that looked like a zombie, and they were prone to getting a bit too zealous about things, then Jean-Pierre could be in trouble. But Charles couldn’t worry about that. He had to get back to the others, check on the guests and try to find a way to talk sense into the band.

As he hurried out of the kitchen, he neither saw nor heard anyone. In fact, he made it halfway toward his office before the band was suddenly behind him, from out of nowhere, it seemed. Inexplicably, they were all in costume, and Charles had to wonder why they would change if they thought this was a zombie outbreak. Then he figured, why wouldn’t they? It was Halloween, and the boys were the boys.

Toki, bless him, was dressed as Skwisgaar, but with Dr. Rockso’s makeup, including a big, spiky red nose. The image was quite disturbing, honestly, and Skwisgaar, dressed as Odin if Charles was to guess, stood far from the Norwegian. All three other band members were between them, and the blond kept shooting glances down the line with a little sneer on his lips.

Pickles was dressed like a leprechaun. There had been some debate by the drummer on how to dress, Charles knew, and many Irish ideas had been decided on then cast aside. Given how sensitive he could be about his height sometimes, his final choice was surprising.

Dressed as Baron Samedi, Nathan was an imposing and striking figure, from his top hat and Victorian-era tuxedo to classy but fancy Victorian gentleman’s walking stick and the vibrantly contrasting white and black on his face. Charles had seen the outfit before, of course, but seeing it on Nathan was something else entirely. It made him feel a bit guilty for not wearing the one Nathan wanted him to.

Charles was fairly certain the only reason Nathan had decided on Samedi for himself, as opposed to a simple grim reaper look he'd originally wanted, was because he'd wanted Charles to go as Maman Brigette; which was one of the costumes Pickles had looked at and decided it was cool, but he was ‘a dude, so [he was] dressing as a dude.’

Thick petticoats, a corset, and heels would be preferable to having to avoid the boys trying to kill him. Charles was confident in his masculinity, so he had no problem with crossdressing, and he knew he’d make an attractive woman if he did. But he’d intended to see to some business during the party, and dressed in feminine Victorian steampunk-esque style was not his idea of business attire. The zombie look was pushing it.

Though there were far worse looks, too; Murderface, for instance, who never seemed to care too much about what others thought of how he looked, except when he did. The bassist was dressed, horrifyingly, as Dr. Frank-N-Furter. There was much too much hair and skin visible. Charles rather wanted to bleach his brain for a moment, and then he remembered he’d seen the man in far worse, and less. But the overt sexuallity of the outfit was distressing.

He noticed all this in a moment that seemed to move in slow motion. Then, time rest itself, all at once, and the boys were taking after him before he even began to move. Charles ran down the hall and into a room on the left. He could out pace them, he knew that much, they were far from in shape (except perhaps Toki). He just had to run them around that long then make for his office, again.

The manager didn’t immediately recognize the room, but Mordhaus had a lot of them, and he couldn’t spare time or thought to try to figure it out. He kept moving forward and scurried into the next room then out into the hall and through the door opposite.

This room was a guest room, whose guest was present. Charles didn’t pause, though, or try to explain. He really didn’t have to ever explain himself to anyone. The glory of being the band’s manager (babysitter). Rushing through, he paid little mind to Mr. Romero, other than to hope that, with any luck, the boys would be distracted by the man and give Charles a wider lead. And to mentally curse the man for his movies, and all those that everyone and their brother followed them up with. He was essentially at fault for this entire situation. He also had to note that the man was injured on the arm and in need of tending, once he could make the luxury of a phone call.

Pickles and Toki could be heard behind him as he darted through the bathroom and into the adjacent guest room. (When did they get adjoined rooms?) There he found Tom Savini, another source of his current situation.

The man was in the most realistic zombie makeup Charles had ever seen; he even smelled like he was decomposing. But other than making note of it, the manager kept moving. He’d have liked to explain what was going on, but he knew it’d cost them both, and he was fine with sacrificing one guest to get away to make sure the rest were locked up safe.

Dashing back out into the hall, Charles ran smack into a human wall as Nathan came barreling out of the facing door. Charles’ reflexes were fast and he dodged away from the meaty hand that swung at him. “Nathan…” He tried, dodging the big man again. “Nathan…”

The scuffle drew the attention of the others, heads popping out of four different doors, one of which was well down the hall in the direction they’d come earlier, and the boys were spread equally on either side of the hall. It really was fortunate they were scatterbrained and directionally challenged.

“Nathan!” He insisted forcefully, tone sharp and frustrated. It was enough to make the singer pause, and Charles grabbed his wrist and quickly dragged the man into the door the singer had just exited. The sounds of clambering feet echoed behind them, the rest of the band calling out for Nathan.

Charles didn’t slow down. He had Nathan off balance enough that the frontman couldn’t do more than stumble along as he was pulled. Charles needed to get distance between them and the others. He needed to reason with Nathan.

He crossed the hall several more times, backtracking a couple times to confuse the boys. Oddly, he had seemed to come out in the wrong place a few times, sometimes on the opposite side of the hall than he thought he’d gone into, but he was frazzled enough to really not be sure.

Then, his office was in his sight. They’d covered more distance than he’d realized, and with a little extra burst of speed, he got them inside, shoved Nathan toward the desk, then locked and barricaded the door. Charles then spun around to face Nathan, panting and tense, ready for a fight.

Nathan just stared at him, face set in a thoughtful frown that looked painful. After a moment, he marched over, long legs bringing him to Charles in two strides. He reached out and the manager couldn’t help but flinch, body tensing even more, which made Nathan pause for a second. He then continued reaching out, scraping his nails at Charles’ hairline. A moment later and part of the manager’s makeup was peeled away, a small latex wound that had been molded and placed for effect on his temple.

“Nathan?” He questioned, unable to stop himself from sounding hopeful.

“Makeup’s running. Like mine does on stage.” His large hand wiped at Charles’ face with a handkerchief he’d pulled out of Charles’ breast pocket.

“Oh.” Charles had never thought of the cloth. For all that he was made up like the undead, he was still in his usual attire, though he’d had to let the costume designers rip and stain the clothing. The cloth certainly would have helped, if he had just wiped his face off…

Charles stood still as Nathan cleaned his face. He never ceased to melt a bit at how gentle Nathan could be sometimes. It still stung, a bit, on his cheek, making him wince. He’d forgotten the cut he’d gotten from the crossbow.

“Should have said something,” Nathan grunted, using a clean corner and some saliva to gently wipe the cut. Judging by the amount of bright red, he was bleeding again.

Charles glared at him, just a little. “I tried,” he groused, taking the handkerchief from the singer. “Do you think you can stop the rest of the boys from murdering your guests? I can see the headlines now. ‘Metal-Zombie-Ocalypse.’” He folded the kerchief and pressed it on his cheek, holding it there.

“Metal zombie. Good song title.” Nathan pulled out his recorder to make note of it.

Charles rolled his eyes. It was always good for the band to have ideas, but this was hardly the time. “I’m glad I could be of assistance,” he intoned dryly. “Now, about the band…”

“On it.” Nathan made his way to the door, moving Charles’ barricade and turning the lock before swinging it open wide. All the while, loud thuds sounded against the wood. The large man jerked back as Pickles swung out and grabbed at him. “Shit!” He cursed as he dodged again, the drummer could pack quite a wallop if he tried. “Pickles. It’s fine. Charles isn’t a zombie.”

But Pickles didn’t seem to hear him as he stumbled after him, swiping out with his arms but with no sense of coordination or real strength, they were too slow for that. He seemed drunk, so far out of it he couldn’t do more than grunt off and on.

Charles wasn’t sure how he would have had time to get in such a state; Pickles was _never_ this intoxicated without major drugs in massive quantity. And had he stopped for makeup? He looked like a zombie leprechaun, makeup done as well as Savini’s, and he even had that slight smell to him, too.

“Pickles!” Nathan grabbed the drummer’s shoulders, shoving him away as he made to bite Nathan’s arm. Charles reached out and pulled Nathan back beside him, watching Pickles carefully.

“Nathan, something’s wrong.” Every instinct in Charles told him to run, not like he’d run from the boys, but really run and not look back. This felt urgent, life and death urgent.

“He’s just messing around,” Nathan spoke casually, but he was tense at Charles’ side. Though sometimes slow, Nathan was far more observant than given credit for. He knew Pickles wasn’t acting right. Maybe it was instinct, like Charles. He’d dodged Pickles’ grabs and had seemed leery since he’d opened the door. Generally, he’d just shrug the behavior off, ignore it and let Pickles get whatever out of his system.

When Pickles advanced again, Nathan stepped in front of Charles, but the manager quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him along to a hidden door that led to his rooms. The hall beyond was narrow and winding, and there were stairs going up and down. The purpose was to be a hidden, secure escape route should one be needed. The door was built like the door of a bank vault. Nothing short of a massive explosion would move it. Similar doors had been installed in each of the boys’ rooms, the rec room, and double layer to the outside. They were each separate halls, that converged near the outside door, with a few decoy offshoots along the way.

“Uh… Where’s this go?” Nathan questioned, after a couple minutes.

“My bedroom,” he answered honestly. “The heavy bookcase you pinned me to last week.”

“Your room’s not this far from your office.” The frontman sounded perplexed. “How do you remember which way to go?” He added as they went through a third intersection. “Seriously, how does all this fit in the house?”

“Do you really care?” Charles asked as they came to his door. He glanced back at Nathan, arching a brow.

“No,” he answered after a couple seconds thought. “I mean, it’s here, so it fits, right?”

“Right.” He answered unlocking the door with a retina scan and handprint scan, before saying his name. The locks clicked open and Charles moved inside and motioned Nathan in. He left the door ajar. If they needed to retreat, it’d be faster to get out if he didn’t have to unlock it. Having used the door from his office, the system had been tripped and all the doors would require unlocking, no matter from which side you were going through.

“Now what?” Nathan asked.

Charles made his way to the bathroom. “Now I get out of this makeup and into more suitable clothing and I make a call to find out just what the situation in the Haus is. You can sit and relax, for the moment.”

The manager made short work of cleaning up. His skin felt better without all the makeup and he changed into casual clothing: jeans, tee, and his leather jacket. The choice was on impulse, at least the jacket. He didn’t even remember grabbing it, and he slid it on automatically.

When he returned to his room, Nathan was gone and the door was ajar. He couldn’t fathom why the man would have left, or where he would have gone. With a frown, Charles moved to the door.

No one was in sight in the hall, and he heard no sound nearby. He was certain he’d not been in his bathroom that long, but there was no sign of Nathan. Charles didn’t want to go back out, but he had to find his lover.

Come to think of it, he had guests to locate as well. No one had been in his office and he knew he’d left Twinkletits and Knubbler there getting ready. In fact, he didn’t recall seeing any evidence that anyone had been there at all, doing anything like makeup or costuming. It was as immaculate as he kept it during day to day business.

As he walked down one hall then another, Charles couldn’t find anyone, anywhere. Not only that, but everything seemed far too quiet, silent with no hum of electricity or distant sounds of people in the castle. It made his nerves tingle, kept him on edge and alert as he moved along the halls.

He spent what felt like an hour searching, and just when he was starting to feel panic at the back of his mind, a sound drew his attention. Following the sound, hoping he found Nathan (at that point his lover was his only concern), Charles found himself in a room that appeared to be an auditorium. He wasn’t sure when they’d gotten the room, he’d have to do a walk through the Haus and see what was new that he’d not been told about; he hadn’t done it in awhile, and the boys snuck things in on him from time to time.

The room appeared empty, and the door made an unusually loud echoing bang when it closed behind him. Nothing moved and no sound other than the echo of the door could be heard. Charles waited for a moment, maybe two, and when nothing happened, he headed down the aisle, between the rows of theatre seating.

As he neared the stage, he could hear the sound of movement behind the thick curtains. He intended to investigate, but before he got close enough to make for the stairs, a spotlight illuminated the stage. The manager paused, eyes locked on the stage.

Before he could wonder what to expect for long, music, soft and growing louder, began to fill the air. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what it was he was hearing, in fact, even as he thought he knew, the song seemed to change to another and then back again a few moments later. The mix wasn’t something he’d call good.

Murderface appeared on the stage as the heavier music, all guitar and saxophone he thought, played louder still. He was still in his Frank-N-Furter costume, but he had some sort of wrap or kimono on over it as well. Confused, and disturbed, the manager could only watch as the bassist began to sing.

_~Don't get strung out by the way that I look_  
Don't judge a book by its cover  
I'm not much of a man by the light of day  
But by night I'm one hell of a lover  
I'm just a sweet transvestite  
From Transexual, Transylvania, ha ha~ 

The dancing was very appropriate for the song, but then suddenly the music changed to the other tune that had been in the mix. It was softer, ‘prettier’ even. And when Murderface sang this time, his voice was trying much harder (and failing horribly) to sound feminine. He’d closed up the dress and he had a fan in his hand from somewhere that he fanned at himself.

_~I feel pretty_  
_Oh, so pretty_  
_I feel pretty and witty and bright!_  
_And I pity_  
_Any girl who isn't me tonight._

_I feel charming_  
_Oh, so charming_  
_It's alarming how charming I feel!_  
_And so pretty_  
_That I hardly can believe I'm real_

_See the pretty girl in that mirror there_  
_Who can that attractive girl be?_  
_Such a pretty face_  
_Such a pretty dress_  
_Such a pretty smile_  
_Such a pretty me!_

_I feel stunning_  
_And entrancing_  
_Feel like running and dancing for joy_  
_For I'm loved_  
_By a pretty wonderful boy!~_

The finishing note was enough to pierce Charles’ eardrums and make his head spin. It was awful and painful. He was thankful that the sound changed, the music going back to the Rocky Horror melody. Some of the song had been skipped, but he was only vaguely aware of it.

_~Why don't you stay for the night?_  
_Or maybe a bite?_  
_I could show you my favorite obsession_  
_I've been making a man_  
_With blond hair and a tan_  
_And he's good for relieving my tension_

_I'm just a sweet transvestite_  
_From Transexual, Transylvania, ha ha~_

The song changed again.

_~I feel pretty_  
_Oh, so pretty_  
_That the city should give me its key_  
_A committee_  
_Should be organized to honor me.~_

Toki and Skwisgaar joined the bassist on the stage, beginning to sing backup to the song with him, entering with a string of ‘La la la la...’

_~I feel dizzy_ >br/> _I feel sunny_  
_I feel fizzy and funny and fine_  
_And so pretty_  
_Miss America can just resign!~_

**~La lalalala la la la la~**

_~See the pretty girl in that mirror there~_

**~What mirror where?~**

_~Who can that attractive girl be?~_

~Which? **What?** Where? **Whom?** **~**

_~Such a pretty face_  
_Such a pretty dress_  
_Such a pretty smile_  
_Such a pretty me!~_

At that point, Charles did his best to tune out the noise. He was getting a headache and none of this was making sense. As he moved away from the stage, he heard the song shift, going into Toki and Skwisgaar doing their own rendition of ‘Anything You Can Do.’ The manager didn’t care about them, he had to find Nathan.

Only, when he got out of the auditorium, he found himself outside, and the Haus was surrounded by hordes of undead. He couldn’t help the panic he felt welling up in him, and he about came out of his skin when a large hand grabbed his shoulder from behind and jerked him back.

The world spun and he could distantly hear his lover’s voice. He felt like he was falling, the world falling out from under him and then, suddenly, he was in bed, disoriented. Nathan was leaning over him, a curtain of dark hair blocking out a lot of the light around them. Charles could only blink up at him for a moment.

“You were making noise and jerking around,” Nathan told him, voice a low rumble filled with sleep.

Charles rubbed at his face and moved, pushing Nathan back down so he could snuggle up against his side. “Bad dream,” he mumbled, not really wanting to think about it.

“Usual Halloween dream?” The singer asked, rubbing at his lover’s back.

“Mostly.”

Nathan chuckled and Charles pinched his side for it. “Promise, no zombie parties,” the singer told him.

“Good.” He kissed his neck. “And I’ll wear the costume you wanted.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to be in a dress, but it seemed like the dream was telling him he needed to do this for Nathan. So this year, he was going to be Maman Brigette for Halloween. Luckily, Nathan was one sexy Baron Samedi.

**Author's Note:**

> The image of Charles as Maman Brigette will forever be stuck in my head. The second it came to me, I just couldn't let go of it, and it would be something I could see Nathan agreeing with. And with Nathan as Baron Samedi, they'd make a striking pair, no doubt. 
> 
> Songs are rather obvious. _Sweet Transvestite_ from Rocky Horror and _I Feel Pretty_ from West Side Story.


End file.
